


Oscar's Crush

by tulipwriter



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tulipwriter/pseuds/tulipwriter
Summary: Oscar has a very unexpected crush... and he hides it the best he can.





	Oscar's Crush

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago, before season 4 started. I took lines from the show to "prove" that Oscar has a crush on someone unexpected all along. This probably will make more sense to people who have seen season 2 a few times (as I had when I wrote it!). Not my best work, but I thought I would share it here regardless. Thanks for reading!

“You should ask Toby to teach you Dunderball.”

Oscar cursed himself. How would he know what office game Toby and Kelly played all day? He didn’t have much business to be over in the annex. But luck was on his side, and Jim never asked.

Oscar didn’t have a problem admitting it. His crush on Toby was, well, weird. Toby was kind of a wet blanket. Soft spoken. An emotional flat-liner. He didn’t even blink when Michael lashed out at him with irrational hatred. Wandering around Amsterdam in an, er, enhanced state for a month didn’t speak well to his stability. And it was questionable whether he’d ever seen the inside of a gym.

Oh, yeah, one more thing. He was straight. A divorce, a kid, and a wandering eye directed at the reception desk. Straight... and more or less determined to stay that way. That sucked. Didn’t he know what he was missing? The savings on panty liners and moisturizer alone...

Oscar couldn’t explain the attraction. It was just... Toby was the nicest guy he’d ever met. He never judged, not even Michael, not even Dwight. He cared about people. He was smart, and funny in his own subdued way. And there was something attractive about him, mustard colored shirts, brown suits and all. 

“Pam.”

Who would he do? Pam seemed like a safe choice. Thank goodness he didn’t blurt out who he was really thinking about.

He left work early, because Ryan started the fire, and he couldn’t see going home to wallow in self-pity. Or worse, fantasize about Toby to the point where reality and fairy-tale started to mix. He went to one of his favorite bars. There was this guy. He talked about his favorite books and movies. He taught music to young kids. He seemed genuine, nice. He was medium height, medium build, and wore a mustard shirt. He said his name was Gil.

“My mom.”

That’s what he told Kevin. He shouldn’t have looked at the card. He knew who the red orchids were from. They were from Gil. He didn’t need to check the card. But he let himself have that one moment of... what if? Who was he kidding? He wondered how long it would take him to recover from that one moment. Maybe he should take another one of those, er, sick days.

“You’re going to have to stop that,” Angela said about Oscar’s foot-tapping.

He needed an excuse, some reason to be over in the annex ever so often. He could file a few complaints. But who could he complain about over and over again without arousing suspicion?

Oscar hid his leg under his desk. “I can still feel it,” Angela snapped.

Yep, that might work.

“It's like child abuse. I say, if Jesus saw that, he'd freak out! He'd freak out, Toby!”

Oscar was almost relieved when Michael interrupted him. Well, a bit ticked because he’d ruined the moment, like he ruined most everything, but, really, where was Oscar going with this? He didn’t actually hate the poster. Sure, it was mildly disturbing. But no more so than Angela’s cat screen-saver or her Jesus of the Month calendar. You sit next to Angela for a few years and you just get used to these things. And if Michael hadn’t interrupted, Oscar wouldn’t have known what to say next. Maybe something like...

“This is so much more offensive to me than hardcore porno.”

What was that? Worse than hardcore porn? Where did he come up with this nonsense? Stupid Michael. He was stuck negotiating a win-win-win deal, and Toby had disappeared back into the annex.

“Gill and I are going to Europe.”

He’d threatened to quit. He let Jan think it was because Michael had forced his horrifying lips onto his. That was disgusting. But hours earlier he confessed to Toby that he was, in fact, a homosexual. Toby acted like some Human Resources representative. He didn’t show any sort of interest, any sort of emotion, beyond how he was going to control Michael. That was heartbreaking.

He thought three months of touring French wineries, drinking Italian espressos, and touring the ruins would make him forget. But it didn’t work out that way. Ireland reminded him of Toby’s freckles. And everything reminded him of how irritating Gil was. So Oscar spit out the snails, sorry escargot, into his napkin and pronounced Versailles like it’s spelled. He was from Scranton, Pennsylvania, for crying out loud. How sophisticated was he supposed to be? Every time Gil said something wrong, Oscar couldn’t help but imagine how Toby might say it right.

“If either of these guys are put in charge of the office, I will transfer to Albany. Gil can come if he wants. I’m looking for a way out of that relationship anyway.”

He watched Stanley and Jim ram into each other while wearing ridiculously ugly beige sumo suits, disappointed that Toby wasn’t allowed to come to Beach Day, and wondering why nothing had changed in more than a year. He even thought about dating women. For a second, but then, ick. Nothing was going to take his mind off Toby. Is that sad or what? But what could he do about it? He has a crush.


End file.
